A Quarter Life Crisis & My Wiley Heart

The last time I wrote here I lightly mentioned that I had the urge to careen off the road and into the ditch and to start walking. I say a lot of shit, but that actually might have been one of the best seeds I’ve ever planted.

Weeks ago a close friend of mine wrote to me admitting that they felt out of place and that I was deeply missed. I sat on this for a few days as it hit me oddly and I wasn’t sure how to file that feeling. I responded honestly (as always) and as I did it suddenly struck me. It had hit odd because it was as if someone was writing to me how I had been feeling.

Days after this while having breakfast with a friend I confided to him about it. In his opinion there was only one thing I could and had to do. I had to go to Germany to see him.   

Later on that same day he stopped by and we looked at flights to Frankfurt. At first I looked at him helplessly as I knew I couldn’t afford such a venture, and I had never traveled internationally alone before. Sometimes I need someone to point things out for me and to repeatedly convince me differently then my own can not’s and what ifs. I am so grateful someone could do this for me. The mind is a strange thing, I know mine at times certainly cannot be trusted. The more we looked at flights and words of, “you can, and fuck your what if’s” the more that seed burrowed at first down, taking root.. and then sprouted up into the sunlight.

I messaged my friend in Germany awkwardly suggesting these flights.

On waiting for a response I had already made up my mind. I would sell everything I could if I had to get there. I had to walk away.  The cabin these past three years has done nothing short of knock me down senseless. The inspiration is short and every time I think of if things had been different, or if it was suddenly gone.. how would things be. Know when I say those things deep down I don’t want to give up the cabin, I just need a big fucking break. I have been so drained, so sleepless, so lifeless.

Just like that, the sprout grew a tiny bit taller.

I wanted to make changes all of a sudden. I started taking lots of fish oil and vitamins (save my depressed soul) and asked Layla to teach me some yoga. This broke the way for more growth. With a properly functioning brain and my body stretching, I felt my soul smile for the first time in so long. With headlamps on I followed her poses and we listened to Asgeir in the warm spring night. “Breathe deeply, point your heart to the sky.” Layla breathed deeply and sighed. My heart was already in the sky.

I got a response saying that I was always welcome and from there our plans really took off.

    I started selling things… 

First, it started with the couch.

I’ve owned my couch for years, I bought it for $100 on Kijiji. As I grabbed the couch to load it into the truck by myself (A vendetta I suppose upon finding a buyer) I had a wash of emotion come over me. How much weight I had tied to this stupid couch. I pushed it into the box of the truck and for a second I thought, great. I’m twenty-five and I once again will not even own a couch. This thought was quickly followed by, who cares. I won’t take the couch with me when I die, but I will take the memories from this trip with me. The couch wasn’t alive. I didn’t owe the couch fuck all. I slapped it into the box and pinned it back to town. The couch cushions blew in the high-speed wind as the sun shone. I felt for the first time like I was detaching myself from something. I looked in the rear view mirror and started laughing. One of those super unattractive laughs of someone who may have lost their god damn mind. It was as if I was rebelling against myself. God it felt good.

With the couch gone I felt myself snowball out of control. I posted just about everything on a buy and sell page, and things were selling like hot cakes. Who knew there would be so much desire for the things that filled up my unfinished cabin. On the first day I raised about a grand and was able to pay my mortgage and finish paying off my truck. I should have done this years ago. I felt myself rising from the dead. With the yoga I felt my body start to work with me instead of against me. I couldn’t flawlessly pursue each pose as Layla can with my back in such rough shape after the car accidents this year, but damn. I was trying. How long has it been since I’ve tried..  

And then, I had a fucking mental breakdown.

One day after talking with my friend in Germany, I thought I should start getting more of my things in order. First things first, I should pack my passport. Except I couldn’t find it anywhere. When I told my friend about the mental breakdown I wrote him these messages:

1st phase: Secret denial and panic. 

“Oh I’m sure it’s around here somewhere.” As I started to tear my truck completely apart.

2nd phase: Not so secret panic.

“Layla I can’t find my passport” I feel my voice waiver. This can’t be happening.

3rd phase: I will tear this God damn house apart.

I climbed the ladder into the loft and began to absolutely destroy everything I owned in search of my passport. I took the drawers out of my dresser and dumped them upside down on the floor. and then searched under those drawers in the dresser itself. Alarm bells were going off in my head and I couldn’t think straight anymore. The panic was rising into a complete breakdown. I could sense Layla and felt that she was quickly deciding the quickest route to paddling the fuck out of there. I could hear myself sobbing and couldn’t believe I was going to miss out on this trip because of my hefty unorganized ways.

4th phase: Slink down the ladder and crawl to the floor and say while sobbing, “I WOULD RATHER DIE THEN NOT GO.” Yep. I said it. I could hear myself throwing this tantrum and thought maybe I really had lost my mind completely.

5th phase: Search Again. 

Because you know, maybe I had just missed it.

6th phase: Rage.

I started getting violent. On searching again up in the loft through my things I started screaming, screaming in a desperate attempt that maybe I would find the passport if I looked and screamed hard enough. “WHERE THE FUCK IS ITTTTTT!!” I manically picked up a metal box and threw it off the loft to smash onto the floor. “FUCCCCCKKKKK!!!!!” Layla silently attempted to look downstairs, sheltered under the loft. Why was I getting so worked up about this.

7th phase: Defeat. 

I climbed onto the dresser drawer and clothes mountain and cried. I guess I wasn’t going. Of course I wasn’t, this is exactly my luck. I am destined to die here, hurting. Why me. For a second I stopped crying and thought as hard as I could on where it could be.

8th phase: Get in the truck.

I flew to town and tried desperately to hide the fear in my heart. I have to go. I need this. I need a break. I phone my brother on the way to town. “CanIpleasecomeoverIneedtolookinyourofficeformypassportpleasepleaseohGodplease.”

9th phase: Found.

It was in his office.

“Bless you both, may you have one hundred babies, bless you both and this house.”

10th phase: Celebration & Gratitude.

Layla and I went for frozen yogurt and I refrained from hugging, kissing and blessing everyone I saw.

After this episode I left Layla in town to take a much-needed break from the crazy bitch I am and went home. Losing your mind is exhausting.  I stepped through the piles of what could have been the aftermath of hurricane Katrina and tucked myself into bed. I slept for a solid four hours. Later Layla said that she wasn’t going to leave me and sometimes having a mental breakdown is good. Obviously there was something underlying going on there.

I continued to sell my belongings, as well as I started giving some things away to friends (Bless you kind being, here is an arm load of books).

The cabin started to transform. Layla brought in a seat from her van to replace the couch and all the sudden the cabin wasn’t feeling so heavy on my shoulders anymore. Was this all it had needed? A massive purge? With everything I gave away or sold, I felt my heart grow lighter. God I needed this so badly. The cabin needed it too, I’m sure at night I hear her sigh with relief.

Now, my flight has been booked and I’m leaving in a mere seven days (sevvveeeeen daaaaayyyyssss). – That’s totally a “the ring” reference by the way.

I’m two hundred dollars away from having completely paid my dear mother back for letting me use her visa. Amen. Now that I’m so close I find myself unable to focus. What is Germany like? What if we drive to Sweden? Will I have a panic attack like I always do on long flights? Will I be okay? I am leaving those bridges to be crossed when I get there, but am embracing the uncertainty of the questions themselves. I told my Dad this morning that I’m leaving to Hamburg in a week and he said if I go he will never speak to me again and have I completely lost my mind.

Actually, Yes. Yes I have.

I lost my mind and found my heart.